


To Whom You Belong

by epeolatry



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Begging, Blindfolds, Bondage, Collars, Come Marking, Dom/sub, Fingerfucking, M/M, Spanking, domferre, subtaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:06:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeolatry/pseuds/epeolatry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A smutty little RFerre one shot based on this fun prompt from Lynchy8: "Restraints, paddling/ spanking, resulting in a crying & begging sub then some harsh rough fucking. Topferre would be good for that - Mr Clinical with his rolled up sleeves. Collaring, marking, ownership. This bratty little sub needs to know who he belongs to & if he isn't totally wrecked at the end then.. I don't even know. Then some nice fluffy aftercare."</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Whom You Belong

Grantaire knew what was coming when he opened the door of Combeferre's flat with the key he'd been given only two weeks before, but seeing his dom standing there waiting for him with his sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal a glimpse of the tattoos running down both forearms, which were crossed sternly, never failed to make his stomach flutter. A calm smile instantly drew itself across Grantaire's lips and as soon as he'd closed the door behind himself he took two steps forward and dropped to his knees at Combeferre's feet, bowing his head deferentially and holding his hands behind his back as was expected of him.

 

"Good boy," Ferre said, his tone deep and soothing as he stroked one hand through Grantaire's dark, unruly curls. "How was your day?"

 

"Fine," grunted Grantaire, wholly uninterested in small talk. "Work. Boring."

 

His mind was more concerned with the imminent scene that Ferre had whispered into his ear that morning, the thought of which had been tormenting him all day. The promise to break him completely then build him back up. Threats like 'restrained', 'spank you until you cry', and 'leave you so covered in my marks that everyone will know to whom you belong'. It was going to be a good night.

 

Combeferre hardly had to wonder what was distracting his sub, and his smile was evident in his voice as he asked, "Are we eager tonight, my darling little whore?"

 

Grantaire exhaled gladly, the derogatory name a starting gun in his head. "Yes Sir."

 

"Look at me."

 

Grantaire's head snapped up and he met his master's cool, grey gaze with frank eagerness.

 

"I love you," said Combeferre with gentle seriousness. "What's your safe word?"

 

"Red. I love you too Sir."

 

"That's my darling. Now go into the bedroom, remove your clothing, and wait for me on your knees like a good boy."

 

"Yes Sir, thank you Sir." Grantaire took the hand Ferre offered to him and got to his feet, walking to the bedroom full of the knowledge that it would be the last time he was on his feet for the rest of the night. When he got there he grinned; Ferre had set up already. Grantaire liked surprises but Ferre liked unspoken threats, and though Grantaire would be more than happy to be bound and blindfolded and worked over with whatever toys Ferre happened to pick up, his dom was much more methodical than that. He preferred to lay out his instruments like the clinician he was, leaving Grantaire to find the preparations himself and shiver at the thought of what was to come.

 

Two sets of padded leather cuffs, one for his wrists and the other for his ankles, were laid out on the bed beside a length of gauzy black material that they had used as a blindfold one memorable evening last week. On the side table sat a half empty bottle of lube, a condom, Combeferre's favourite hairbrush, and Grantaire's favourite thing in the world... a soft, green leather collar, delicately worked and ornamented with a small silver tag that read simply 'R' in a beautifully calligraphic script.

 

The toys had been set out to titillate and they did their job; by the time he was naked Grantaire was almost fully hard even without touching himself. He desperately wanted the collar safe and tight around his throat as he knelt on the floor, and he kept darting little glances to it even as he tried to keep his eyes trained downwards, his ears pricked for Combeferre's approach. Eventually, just as he was almost beginning to whine from his need for attention, the measured footfalls of Combeferre's tread reached his ears and with one last, longing glance at the collar Grantaire straightened his back and lowered his head, trusting that whatever happened, whatever he needed, Combeferre would take care of him.

 

"There's my boy," murmured Ferre, approaching close enough that Grantaire could see the man's shoes as he loomed above him. "Hands out."

 

Grantaire brought his hands forward, loose fists pressed knuckle to knuckle like a supplicant at an altar, and gratefully allowed Ferre to clasp the cuffs around his wrists, testing their strength though he knew from experience that these particular cuffs were thick and sturdy, not something he was likely to break out of in a hurry. "Excellent boy," reassured Ferre, moving to the table to pick up the blindfold. "Head up."

 

Grantaire again allowed the thin material to be bound around his eyes. They had tried a thicker blindfold once after much pestering on Grantaire’s part, one that had blocked out all vision, but Grantaire had panicked the second Combeferre stepped away from the bed to retrieve the lube and Ferre had called a time out. After a lot of further negotiation they had tried again with a lighter material, one that blocked most of Grantaire's sight but still allowed him to distinguish movement and see a little light. Grantaire was more than happy with the new arrangement, deprived of enough sight to be stimulating but still reassured that Ferre remained in the room with him, that he hadn't been left alone, abandoned.

 

Through gauze-blinded eyes Grantaire saw Combeferre’s movement back towards the table but no collar was fastened around his throat. Instead he felt a hand descend on each of his shoulders to pull him to his feet, then guide him over to the bed.

 

"I'm going to spank you now, pet. I'm going to keep you over my knees until you're crying and I'm not going to stop until I'm certain that you won't be sitting down without thinking about me, about what you let me do to you, for a week. Then I'm going to fuck that sweet, tight, little hole of yours, use you until I'm completely satisfied. Doesn't that sound lovely?"

 

Grantaire gave a high pitched whine as Combeferre manhandled him to settle across his knees, trying to express his happiness with that plan but unable to form coherent words in the face of Combeferre's brutal eloquence.

 

"It doesn't matter what you think anyway," continued Combeferre calmly, beginning to knead and pinch at the firm flesh of Grantaire's exposed arse.

 

"I'm going to do what I like with you whether you want me to or not." The words sent shivers of erotic pleasure down Grantaire's spine. It had taken a long time for Ferre to be able to use such threats, the grey area between submission and non-consent making him extremely uncomfortable, and Grantaire suspected that was the very reason he hadn't been gagged as well as blindfolded. But his thoughts fell away as Ferre landed the first harsh smack with an open palm right across the middle of his arse, making him yelp and jerk forwards despite the other firm hand holding him in place.

 

"I was going to start with the brush straight away," commented Ferre conversationally as he began raining blows down with his hand, each smack drawing lovely little noises from his squirming sub, "But you were so good coming straight home to me, all ready to play, and my good, sweet boy deserves to be warmed up first I think."

 

Grantaire whimpered his thanks as a particularly harsh slap landed at the top of his thigh, but apparently this wasn't quite enough for Ferre, who growled warningly, "What do we say?"

 

"Tha-thank you, Sir!" Grantaire gasped, feeling his skin grow hot as each slap landed before the sting of the previous one had fully dissolved, his arse quickly turning red and painful.

 

"You're welcome," murmured Combeferre, polite to a fault even when dishing out a beating. "It's time for the brush. You may have a moment to recover yourself now."

 

The sharp pain stopped as suddenly as it had started and Grantaire tried to get his desperate breathing under control, well aware that the worst was yet to come. His arse sang with heat and pain and his cock throbbed dizzyingly, pressed against the rough denim of Combeferre's thigh. His eyes were squeezed shut behind the light blindfold and his fingers were tightly intertwined, attempting to keep still as best he could.

 

He gasped as the prickle of bristles scraped harshly over the hot, red skin of his arse and Combeferre chuckled, pressing the brush slightly harder into the abused flesh and making Grantaire cry out.

 

"Ready for more, pet?"

 

"Yes s-Sir."

 

The brush came down with no further warning, its sharp smack ringing around the room as Grantaire yelped and flinched. Combeferre chuckled again, pulling his sub back into place and repeating the blow on the other cheek. Grantaire could already feel tears gathering behind his eyes and he clenched them closed even tighter. Combeferre liked to make him cry but he was determined not to do so this quickly. He wanted to hold out as long as possible, allow Ferre as much time as possible to enjoy doling out the punishment, because he knew that while tears wouldn't stop his methodical dom they would certainly slow him down and preclude the ending of the spanking. Then again, he had the promise of being thoroughly fucked after to look forward to...

 

The spanking continued, Combeferre's attention to detail at the fore as he carefully covered every inch of Grantaire's flesh with the brush, leaving his thighs and buttocks burning red. Grantaire was sobbing openly by the time Combeferre began to grunt with the effort of the repeated blows, and tears falling freely from his eyes, dripping out from beneath the thin blindfold as his chest shuddered with deep, gulping breaths. Then suddenly the room fell silent, the loud, echoing smacks replaced with the heavy breathing of both men; Combeferre's measured and Grantaire's ragged and desperate, halting with tears.

 

A moment's respite was all that was granted however, as Ferre's deft fingers began to squeeze and pinch at the heated, reddened flesh. Grantaire all but howled at the sudden return of the pain he had been coming down from, Ferre ignoring his cries and cruelly twisting and kneading where the skin was bruised the most, intending to leave lasting marks. Grantaire's cries subsided into tearful whimpers, knowing that Ferre wouldn't heed his pleas, knowing that he would just have to be patient and endure, allow Ferre to have his fun and trust that he would be taken care of in due course as long as he was good for his master. Eventually the scratching and grabbing gave way to soothing circles being gently rubbed over the savage marks on his skin and Grantaire exhaled in relief.

 

"Such a good boy," soothed Combeferre gently. "You look so gorgeous, wearing my bruises. You're irresistible, my pet. Would you like to be fucked now?" He underscored the offer with a brush of his index finger over Grantaire's entrance, making the limp, exhausted man over his knees moan and twitch weakly.

 

"Yes Sir," Grantaire managed to whimper as Ferre kept rubbing teasingly over his hole. "Please Sir, use me. L-like you said you would. Please."

 

"Always so eager to please," smiled Ferre, gently pulling Grantaire up until the bound man was lying on the bed, a pillow under his hips pushing his aching arse into the air, his cuffed hands stretched up above his head. His legs remained still and pliant as Ferre snapped the second set of cuffs around his ankles, anchoring them closely together so that Grantaire was unable to spread his legs more than an inch or two apart.

 

"My sweet, slutty darling. Don't worry, I'm going to take care of you," Ferre muttered reassuringly as one wet finger slid knuckle-deep into Grantaire's hole, making him sigh happily, his abused muscles fluttering around the intrusion. Grantaire was so relaxed, and still loose from their lazy, loving fuck that morning, that Combeferre immediately slid a second finger in, gently scissoring them and drawing out quiet little whines from his sub as the other man began to rock back onto his hand, whimpering for more, wordlessly begging for the rough fucking he had been promised.

 

"What do you want?" teased Ferre, fingering Grantaire a little more forcefully, knowing that he was enjoying it.

 

"Your cock," gasped Grantaire as Ferre twisted his fingers expertly inside of him, brushing across his prostate and stretching him in the same movement. " _God_ , please Sir, I need you inside me. Please use your whore!"

 

Combeferre smiled and continued to finger Grantaire open as he reached his other hand toward the bedside table. Grantaire's head whipped around, his half-blinded eyes picking up Combeferre's movement but unable to discern exactly what was happening until a few seconds later when the probing fingers withdrew from his arse and he felt the coolness of his collar being slipped around his throat and clasped into place. The simple weight of the collar was enough to make him moan gratefully, and he shifted his hips a little to present himself more, to be more accessible to Ferre. He was desperate now to be fucked, to be owned completely and to feel that ownership not only around his neck but all over him, Ferre's weight pressing him down as his cock forced its way inside him; owned inside and out.

 

"You desperate little whore," Ferre chuckled, but Grantaire heard a zipper being undone and the rustle of denim being pushed down, and a moment later the head of his dom's cock pressed bluntly against his entrance, teasing him before pressing fully inside in one swift thrust.

 

Both men groaned loudly, Grantaire's muscles clenching around the sudden fullness,  while Combeferre remained still for a moment before starting to grind his hips against Grantaire's arse, the heat coming off the bruised flesh in hot waves. His cock was as deep inside his sub as he could be, grinding slowly and torturously against his prostate.

 

Grantaire whined, trying to tilt his hips back for more but also trying to twitch his burning flesh away from Ferre's painful grinding; it was perfect. His cuffed ankles forced him to keep his legs together despite his natural instinct to spread them as accommodatingly far apart as possible. This way, his thighs were pressed together with Ferre's knees either side of him, holding him in place as he fucked forwards into Grantaire's tensed body, his muscles forced to clench and grasp at his dom more tightly than usual thanks to the restricted position.

 

Grantaire felt a tug at his throat and he realised that Ferre was pulling at his collar, pulling him upright to his elbows. Grantaire dragged his cuffed hands back until he was propped up on his elbows, his neck arched backwards as Ferre began to thrust in earnest, building a fast rhythm. Grantaire's breath came in sharp little huffs as he lost himself in the heady sensations of being so completely owned.

 

"God, you're perfect," grunted Ferre as he slammed into Grantaire over and over, sharp hip bones colliding with heated, bruised flesh and making Grantaire cry out painfully with each thrust.

 

"A perfect hole for me to fuck - _christ!_ \- a perfect arse for me to spank... Beautiful…"

 

Grantaire was all but sobbing, overwhelmed by the rough fucking and the over-attentive praise that he was unable to handle at that precise moment. All he was able to say breathlessly was "Please, please, please," over and over again, not exactly sure what he was begging for.

 

"Do you want to come?" growled Combeferre in his ear, continuing to fuck harshly into Grantaire, every brutal thrust making the pliant body beneath him shudder under his weight. "Do you want to come for me?"

 

" _Yes_ ," panted Grantaire desperately, breaking up his litany of 'please's. "Yes Sir, yes, yes, yes!"

 

"Come on then," Ferre murmured ferociously, letting go of Grantaire's collar and shoving his hand between the pillow and Grantaire's hips, taking him in hand and stroking forcibly as he huffed out his final order.

 

"Come for me, come all over yourself. Paint yourself in your own filth, my dirty boy, my precious, dirty boy. Come for me."

 

Grantaire was powerless to resist such commands and within a minute he was crying out hoarsely, coating himself and Combeferre's fist in his spendings, his already pliant body going entirely limp as the aftershocks washed through him, rocking as helplessly as a stick in an ocean as Ferre continued to ruthlessly fuck him through it. Grantaire had no concept of time in his dazed state of subspace, but it seemed quite soon after that he felt Ferre withdraw from him and come across his sore, red arse in hot white streaks, painting him, marking him, making sure everyone would know to whom he belonged. The thought made Grantaire sigh contentedly, boneless,  satisfied and aching in a dozen different ways.

 

In a haze he felt his wrists and ankles unlocked and rubbed gently, allowed himself to be soothed with a warm, wet cloth. He rolled onto his side obediently, unsure if he was following a spoken command or simply adhering to Ferre's nudge at his shoulder. He felt himself wiped down, cleaned, soothed, and warmed, then enveloped in safe, strong arms, a steady heartbeat pressed against his back. Quiet words washed over him, grounding him, a lullaby in reverse, bringing him back to full awareness rather than sending him to sleep. Eventually he opened his eyes, a vague smile on his lips as he turned to face his dom.

 

"Hey there," Ferre smiled at him. "Feeling okay?"

 

"Perfect," murmured Grantaire lazily, "Thank you Sir."

 

"Thank _you_ darling," grinned Combeferre, pressing a quick kiss to Grantaire's forehead. "Would you like to keep your collar on a little while longer?"

 

"Please," yawned Grantaire, his eyes already sliding closed again, "Just for a little while..."

 

"Anything you want pet, anything for you."

 

But Grantaire was already asleep.


End file.
